


the ghosts that come to life

by kimaracretak



Series: gracie shepard: if the sun can radiate then so can i [4]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Omega (Mass Effect), Pre-Relationship, Reluctantly Found Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 01:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8870281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/pseuds/kimaracretak
Summary: (we are alone / we are the night): There's also the not insignificant detail that if Gracie has to listen to someone not from Omega insult Omega one more time, she'll probably end up starting a fistfight, and while Miranda isn't exactly undeserving, there's a long list of people ahead of her.Or; Cerberus sends a former pirate to Omega to pick up a new crew, and really should not be surprised by anything that happens.(or; the one where a galactic crime lord 'call your adoptive grandma's shepard)





	

**Author's Note:**

> title + summary quote from lacuna coil, 'zombies'

Omega, it turns out, is just one more thing Miranda is incapable of shutting up about. Gracie tunes most of it out, secure in the knowledge that Aria's continued presence means it probably hasn't changed much since the last time she passed through. The Asari's in every vein and piece of circuitry that winds through the asteroid, and Gracie doubts even Reapers could change that.

There's also the not insignificant detail that if she has to listen to someone not _from_  Omega _insult_  Omega one more time, she'll probably end up starting a fistfight, and while Miranda isn't exactly undeserving, there's a long list of people ahead of her.

So maybe she's not _exactly_  from Omega herself. Maybe she's a little nervous about meeting Aria face to face for the first time and looking for a distraction. So what?

Jacob fidgets to her left as they wait for the airlock to cycle and EDI recites a list of marginally useful facts that Gracie bets she could have found in less time while alerting fewer of Aria's people to their presence. He radiates an Alliance sincerity that Gracie can't believe Cerberus hasn't kicked out of him yet, and while he saved her life once she's already tired of him.

The peculiar scent of Omega's air hits her immediately, recycled plastics and spice, and her eyes flutter shut for half a second as she attunes the rest of her senses to the station. It feels like a truer homecoming than stepping on to Miranda's new _Normandy_  did.

Omega is loud, like always, Afterlife's music reaching even into the docking corridor. And above that, the unmistakable sound of a gauntleted fist against skin. Gracie opens her eyes and smirks at the familiar silhouette at the end of the hall. " _Massani!_ "

She senses rather than sees Miranda's eyeroll as she breaks away from them, jogging down the corridor. Closer, she can see that Massani's unfortunate conversation partner is a Batarian, one who looks up at her with four glazed. eyes, muttering, "Please ... you have to help me."

Massani's boot connects with its side with a dull _thud_  before she can reply that she doesn't "have to" do anything. "No one said you could talk, jackass," he growls.

Same as ever, Gracie thinks. No sense of subtlety or finesse in the man at all. She folds her arms and pins him with a stare. "You've gotten dumb, Massani. Beating up two-bit punks in Aria's territory now?"

Apparently satisfied for the moment that his prisoner isn't going anywhere, Massani finally turns to her. " _Commander_ Shepard," he says, and doesn't bother making it sound like anything but an insult. "You died. I didn't."

Unspoken is: _You became Alliance. I didn't._  Gracie's not an idiot, but she also doesn't feel like having that conversation with Massani, of people. She'll decide later if she wants to mourn Commander Shepard. "I got better. A hundred credits say you wouldn't have. I assume you've been briefed? And what's the story with him?" She gestures to the Batarian.

Massani's eyes linger on her for a moment, before flickering to Jacob and Miranda. "Yeah, Cerberus sent me everything I needed to know. As for this one," he unholsters his pistol, "someone paid me. Someone rich enough for my 'bring 'em in alive' rates, even."

"I didn't do it," the prisoner mutters, dragging himself back to sitting and sounding more afraid than convincing.

"Fat chance," Miranda scoffs, as Zaeed sighs and kicks his prisoner back to the floor.

"I said _shut it_ ," he says, fingers twitching on his pistol, and Gracie takes a very deep breath and reminds herself that when Massani's good he really is one of the best. Their job on Intai'sei was nearly a decade ago, but still one of her most profitable hauls to date. Except right now, he barely looks fucking  _competent._

She catches Miranda's eye briefly and pointedly ignores the other woman's Look — and it is a capital-L _Look_ , one that Gracie appreciates hardly looks practised at all. She turns back to Massani. "Tell you what," she says, and pretends Jacob doesn't make a soft noise of protest as one of the Batarian's bones cracks under Massani's heel. "I'll make you a separate deal, old partner to old partner, right now."

"Yeah?" he asks, scarred face twitching in an approximation of a smile. "What's that?"

"You deal with your little situation over here out of my sight and Aria's," she jerks her head towards the Batarian, "and then you meet us in Afterlife in an hour and tell me what I gotta do to keep your full attention on this mission."

"You saying I'm slipping?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the Batarian start to stand up. "No," she says, inching her own hand towards her waist, cursing the fact that she couldn't see either Miranda or Jacob without losing Massani's focus. "I'm saying there's always a catch, and I don't do business unless I know it beforehand. You ought to know that by now."

The Batarian makes a break for it as soon as she finishes speaking. Massani kneecaps it without looking. It is, fittingly enough, the most comforting thing that's happened all day.

"You're an asshole, kid," he sighs, holstering the pistol with more care than she's seen him do anything so far. "But you're not wrong. There's something I need you to do."

Gracie arches an eyebrow and glances back at Miranda. "Cerberus information, hm?"

"Don't be silly, I knew the two of you would talk," she says carelessly.

"The two of _us_  are gonna talk," Gracie promises. "Massani. Fucking ... get rid of him. I have other things to do."

He shoulder-checks Miranda on his way over to grab the sprawled prisoner, and Gracie smirks as Miranda bares her teeth. "Yeah, yeah. I better turn this thing in before it starts to stink. See if you can avoid getting killed again."

Gracie flips him off behind his back and wonders if it's worth trying to explain that she and Massani don't _actually_  hate each other's guts that seriously.

"Were _you_  like that, before the Alliance?" Miranda asks curiously as they watch him drag his prize towards one of the transport cars.

Gracie doesn't have to feign offense. "He's as subtle as a battering ram, but we ran a couple missions together. I can work with him."

"Subtle? You nuked three-quarters of a planet," Miranda says, and there's just enough solemnity mixed in with the amusement that Gracie decides against decking her right the fuck there.

"Hey." She steps forward, edging uncomfortably close into Miranda's space, so close she can feel the hum of the other woman's biotics resonating against her own. "You don't fucking bring up Virmire like that."

"Okay," Miranda agrees. Just like that, no questions asked, and Gracie's speechless for the first time since she woke up.

She's almost grateful when Jacob breaks the silence with a cough. "Uh, Commander?"

"Yeah?" She doesn't take her eyes off Miranda. Miranda, for her part, just stands there, meeting her gaze in silence, and Gracie can't shake the feeling that something is shifting between them.

"Were you really going to stand there and watch him kill his prisoner?"

Gracie frowns, turning to meet his gaze. "No. Didn't you hear him? He was paid to bring him in alive, he's gonna bring him in alive."

Jacob's eyes are shadowed. "Yeah, well, you can never tell with mercs."

Gracie snorts in disbelief. "You picked the wrong fucking crew kid. Did you even read my file? And besides, given _Cerberus —_ "

"That's _enough_ ," Miranda snaps, stepping smoothly between them. "Jacob, I know Shepard isn't your ideal, I know none of this is your ideal, but she's all we have. And Shepard —" _Just in case I was getting smug, hm?_ "— you of all people I thought would avoid fights with your crew at a time like this."

"The crew that I _pick_ ," Gracie clarifies. "Feel free to go back to the _Normandy,_  Jacob, I'm sure Miranda and Zaeed and I can handle things here." She wants the words back as soon as she's said them, rude childish things far more suited to the kid she's just accused Jacob of being than the captain that she is. But it doesn't matter anymore.

"You know what, I think I will," he says firmly, and Gracie begrudgingly allocates him half a point for sticking to his guns. "Miri, I hope you know what you're doing."

Miranda doesn't answer, just looks between the two of them like she's watching something breaking.

 

*

 

There's three Batarians just past Afterlife's security ropes, and Gracie can't help but give them a once-over as she passes. Not that she doesn't trust Massani but — it's been years, and she doesn't really trust Massani.

"What're you looking at?" the leader asks, taking a half-step forward and rocketing himself to the top of Gracie's ever-growing shit list.

This one, though, she can do something about. "Someone whose day I'm about to ruin," she says, pulling her pistol with deep satisfaction. Behind her, she can hear the _click-hiss_  of Miranda drawing hers as well, and the unexpected support ripples through her warmer than anything has since the day she died.

"I - I - I'm not looking for trouble," he stutters.

She thinks of Elysium, of the lights that have never quite faded from behind her eyes. "Maybe I _am_ ," she says, low and dangerous. "Maybe you better get out of here before I find you some." _Give me a reason. Give me half of a percent of one fucking reason._

Gracie's almost disappointed when he stammers something about having better things to do and runs off, taking his friends with him. "I was _so_  looking forward to that," she sighs, charging down the pistol.

"Three Batarians?" Miranda asks archly. "Seems a bit easy for you."

"Two years dead and everything looks like target practice," Gracie says. "Come on, let's find Aria. And let me do the talking."

Miranda says something under her breath that's probably _because that's been going so well_ , but Gracie decides to ignore her for the moment.

Afterlife is exactly what she's remembered all these years, the ever-present music now rising up as if to drown them. The lights swirl in purples and reds clouding over faint sharp flashes of blue like the drifting scent of alcohol that somehow never seems to move out of the club, pulsing like the music, like her blood. Miranda inhales sharply next to her, and Gracie wonders if she's been here before, what she thinks of it now.

Gracie gives the club a cursory glance as she heads for the stairs. Like the rest of Omega, it doesn't seem to have changed much, and she finds her steps falling into time with the music.

"That's close enough." Aria's voice jolts her out of her thoughts. Gracie's focus snaps back to four heavy pistols in her face.

She holds out her arms for the inevitable scan, hoping that the _click-hiss_  of Miranda's pistol arming behind her doesn't actually go any farther. "It's me, Aria," she says quietly, trying to ignore her heart pounding in her chest. "I'm back."

Aria's guards holster their weapons at a careless wave of her hand. " _Niet echt. Je hebt niet echt terug_."

Gracie chokes on air at the sound of her native tongue, unfiltered for the first time in — she can't remember how long. " _Ik ben. Niet altijd, maar ik ben terug._ " And then, more loudly: "Miranda, put the gun away."

Miranda does so without a word of protest, and Gracie hopes her sigh of relief isn't too obvious.

"Helena Blake's prodigal granddaughter returns." Aria gets up languidly. "From the dead no less. Tell me, my girl," she spreads her arms out, the backlights from the humming pillar in the centre of the club adding nearly half a metre to her height, "what brings you back to me with a Cerberus operative at your command?" Her gaze shifts to Miranda. "I thought we had an agreement about the extent of your operations here."

"I brought her back," Miranda says, as if it's that simple. As if it had been a matter of some medigel and bed rest, and not two years in a multi-billion-credit lab. "We don't need your help —"

"We do," Gracie says before she can finish that sentence, remembering _don't fuck with Aria_ and wishing Miranda were close enough that she could step on her foot. "Aria, we know Omega is yours —"

She raises an amused eyebrow. "Mine? I _am_ Omega. And my only rule is don't fuck with Aria." She tips her head back, and Gracie shivers even as she mouths the words along with her.

" _I_ know," she says. "We're looking for Archangel."

Aria snorts. "You and half of Omega. What, you want him dead too?"

 _Only half?_ "Nah. I'm putting a team together, he's on my list."

Aria shakes her head, and Gracie thinks she catches the faintest hint of a smile. "Always looking to make an impression, you. You'll make a lot of enemies teaming up with Archangel."

Gracie gives her a real smile in return, one that shows just enough teeth to be unsettling. "Good. I've got two years of fucking _nothing_ to make up for."

"In that case," Aria leans forward, resting her arms on the back of her couch. "Some mercs are hiring anyone with a gun to help them take down Archangel. They're in a private room downstairs."

"Our ticket in," Miranda says softly, and Gracie resists the urge to bury her head in her hands. "I like it."

"You won't like it when the mercs realise you're there to help Archangel, and not them."

" _Good._ " Gracie repeats, and Aria chuckles.

"I should have known. But Gracie," her gaze softens slightly, a small enough shift that Gracie would have missed it had she not been watching so intently. "Once you've found your targets, make sure you see _all_  my club has to offer. There's at least one person here you owe an explanation."

 _Helena_. Aria doesn't have to say it for Gracie to know. "Thanks," she says, sighing heavily. "Tell —" she brushes her thumb across the infinity symbol Helena had inked on her wrist decades ago. "No, nevermind. She'll know. I'll talk to her."

"You will," Aria says, and if it sounds like a threat Gracie isn't going to be the one to point it out.

 

*

 

"What was that about?" Miranda asks, as soon as Aria's guards are out of obvious earshot.

"Private fucking business," Gracie snaps, not looking at her. "I thought I said to let me do the talking."

Miranda grabs her shoulder, spinning her halfway around. "You did. But that was before you decided to be all personal —"

"You haven't seen _personal_ ," Gracie snarls, shoving Miranda's hand away. "You're just pissed off that she knew I was in charge of you."

Miranda's startlingly close, eyes vibrant. "You're in charge of the _mission_ , Shepard, not me."

"You went and fucking made me —"

" _Shepard!_ "

She's never been so glad to hear Massani's voice in her life. She takes one, two quick steps back from Miranda and finds him leaning against the bar, less one Batarian and up one SMG and two shot glasses.

"Hate to break up an important fight," he drawls when they get closer. "But I need something before we start this."

"Spill," Gracie orders, hopping up onto the stool beside him and kicking her feet against its post.

Massani grins at her. "I picked up a mission a couple days ago, thought you might be interested. You know the name Vido Santiago?"

"No," she says, holding up a hand immediately. "Sort out your Blue Suns internal shit on your own time. We've got bigger problems."

"I know what you're thinking!" he says defensively. "It's not that. He captured an Eldfell-Ashland refinery on Zorya and is using their workers for slave labour. The company wants it sorted."

Gracie groans. "And you want him dead. So what you really mean is it's not _just_  Blue Suns internal shit."

He gives her a noncommittal shrug. "Your own fault you got a rep for mercy missions."

"Fine. We'll get it done."

"I knew you would, kid." Massani picks up one glass, holds it up for a toast. Miranda sighs impatiently behind them as Gracie grabs her own glass.

"Stop calling me 'kid' and I might even toast you by the time we're done being big goddamn heroes," she smirks, and downs the shot in one swallow.

Massani heads off for the recruitment station immediately, and Gracie follows a little more slowly, feeling Miranda fall into step beside her.

"Always with the surprises, Shepard," she says.

Gracie shrugs. "Your own fault. Maybe you should have paid a little more attention to what I was up to before the Alliance got its hands on me."

Miranda hums absently. "Well. I'll certainly be keeping a closer eye on you from now on."

The problem, Gracie thinks, shoving past a Krogan with a little more force than strictly necessary, was that she didn't hate that idea nearly as much as she should.

**Author's Note:**

> correct my dutch but aria's line should be _not really. you have not truly returned._ and gracie's should be _i am. not forever, but i am back._


End file.
